The Fundamental Things
by Morralls
Summary: Drabbles based off of prompts.
1. Poison

1His eyes are clouded, his speech slurred, as usual. He smiles at me serenely, as though everything is fine and right and good in the word. Like he doesn't have a problem.

He's a genius. His plans are flawless, and some way or another, we always pull them off. He feels the liquor dull his pain, but I watch it dull his wits, his mind. It scares me. In moments like these, he's not the man I knew. Not the man I fell in love with. His misfortune changed him, naturally, but when he's sober, he's still Nate. Smart, quick witted, proud... He's still the man I love, but when he's drunk...

He smiles and offers me the flask for a sip. I take it and pour it down the nearest drain, ignoring him when he shouts in protest. He's not coordinated enough to fight me.

He pours poison down his throat on a daily basis, and I'm left to watch it kill him. His angry words can never hurt as much as knowing that I can't help him. He gets another drink, takes a sip, swallows. It burns _my_ throat as it goes down, every swallow bringing about a new level of agony.


	2. Lost

1"It was my grandfather's. He left it to me in his will, and for almost thirteen years, I had it with me..." Nate sighed, regretfully telling the story again. "I was so careful, and I took great care of it, but it disappeared about six years ago. I miss it."

"Yeah, I can't blame you. My daddy gave me my first knife, and I've still got it." Eliot said, understanding.

"Hey ya'll, we've got to go. What time is it?" Hardison cut in, coming into the room.

"It's..." Sophie dug out a pocket watch with_ Ford_ scrawled across it in ornate lettering. "...half past six."


	3. Nightmare

She was asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand lying across his bare chest. He smiled, his arm tightening around her slightly, and she shifted slightly, frowning. After a moment, her fingers curled into a fist on his chest, and she gasped. "No…" He frowned, watching her too attentively.

"Soph… Soph, wake up." Nate whispered, holding her tighter. Her eyes shot open, and she dragged in a ragged breath.

"Nathan." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Oh Nate…." She whimpered. He pulled her closer, comforting her.

"It's okay, Sophie. It was just a dream." She shook her head.

"No it's not, Nate." She whispered. "I don't mind nightmares. If that was it, I wouldn't be bothered. It's all true."

"What are you talking about? What's true, Sophie?" Nate asked, leaning over her to turn the light on.

"Everything. I see it, when I dream." Sophie replied miserably, sitting up. Nate couldn't help but enjoy seeing her, sitting there in his t-shirt, though the haunted expression on her face bothered him. "What I've stolen, who I've hurt, who has gotten hurt that I was responsible for." She admitted quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Nate asked, sitting up as well.

"You died. That time in Berlin, when you were shot, and it came so close. I saw what could have happened… I've seen you die so many times, Nate, and all I can think about is what if. What if you had died. What if you had stayed home… you wouldn't have that scar." She lifted her hand, her fingertips grazing the scar just above his heart.

"I'm fine, Sophie. I'm right here." Nate reminded her.

"But what if you weren't? I almost lost you Nathan, and I…." She ducked her head, and he pulled her close, holding her.

"But I am."

"I'm not perfect Nate. I'm a sinner. I know that. I've done horrible things, and I never meant for anyone to get hurt. You know that, but… people have, and I hate that. One day, all those things are going to catch up to me. One day, you'll be in Heaven, and I'll never be able to see you again."

Nate laughed softly. "No, I'm taking you with me, Sophie. There's no fighting that." He pulled back, resting a hand against her forehead. "I absolve you. Go and sin no more." He said, half teasing. Sophie smiled.

"Thank you. Oddly enough, I feel better now."

"What you seem to be forgetting, Sophie, is that, no matter how bad the dream can get, it will be okay. Nightmares fade, and you'll wake up, and when you do, you'll still be in my arms. I'm not going to let you go." He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Go back to sleep, Sophie. I'll be here in the morning. I'll be here forever."


	4. Drunk

1He smiles at me, his hand at my waist, and I pull away. Not when he's like this. Alcohol clouds his eyes and dulls his senses. We're working on a con, and he's losing focus. He needs to relax, unwind. I hate the way he chooses to do it. He chases after me. I know he wants me, but I don't know how much of it is the man I love and how much is the alcohol talking.

Not when he's like this.

He whispers that he wants me. That he loves me, but it doesn't change anything.

It doesn't make it hurt any less to see him like this.

He's not the man I fell in love with. He's not kind and gentle, sweet and addicting.

He's not my White Knight like this. He's not even my Black King.

I can fight with him, beg him, argue with him, but it won't help. He has to do this himself. He's so intent on saving everybody. The person who really needs saving is him.


	5. Autograph

1"Sam, this is Miss Sophie." Nate introduced. "She's the one we were sent to find."

Sam's eyes became two huge blue orbs. "You're a thief?" He asked, with all the lack of subtlety of a five year old. Sophie smiled indulgently.

"That's right. I'm the best of the best." She teased lightly.

"Can I have your autograph?" Sam asked. Of course, to him, this was tantamount to meeting his favorite baseball player or singer. He grabbed a piece of paper from the bedside and offered it to Sophie, who produced a pen from-

"Hey! Sophie, that's _my_ pen!" Nate complained, fishing through his pocket. Sophie winked at Sam, who looked even more surprised. He pushed the paper into her hands, and she went to the table, writing Sam a little note.

_Sammy, _

_Hang in there and maybe one day you can be just like your Dad. He'd be so proud to have his son bringing in the thieves and criminals too. Try to be like Nate, and not like us thieves, okey? _

_-Sophie Devereaux_

She handed the piece of paper to Sam, who read it with quick, intelligent eyes, and then looked at Nate. "Daddy, when I grow up, I want to be like you and get the bad guys." He announced. Sophie smiled, and Nate looked proudly at his son.

"One day, Sammy, you'll be better than your old man at catching the bad guys." Nate said, ruffling Sam's hair.

"Don't say that Daddy. You're the best there is, just like Miss Sophie."

Sophie laughed. "Your boy has spoken, Nate."

Nate smiled. "You want to be the one to catch the thief this time, Sam?" Nate asked, giving Sophie a playful gaze. She laughed, knowing where this was going.

"Yeah!" Sam exclaimed excitedly. Nate led him to Sophie and gave him the handcuffs.

"Okay, well we need to make sure that Sophie won't go anywhere tonight because we're flying back early tomorrow. So you need to handcuff her." Nate explained.

"But Daddy, won't Miss Sophie try to get away?" Sam asked. Sophie patted him on the shoulder.

"Since this is your first time, Sam, I'll be nice and let you catch me." She offered her hands and Sam snapped the cuffs around her wrists.

"I did it, Daddy! I caught the thief!"

"Yes, well done, Sammy." Nate leaned forward and snapped a chain on the cuffs, connecting it to the headboard of the second bed. "Come on, Sam. It's bedtime."

Sam woke Nate early the next day. "Daddy! Daddy, Miss Sophie's gone!" Nate opened his eyes slowly with a groan.

"Of course she is." He complained.

"She left you a autograph too, Daddy." Sam handed Nate the sheet of paper.

Close, but no cigar. I'll see you next time, Nate.

-Sophie.


	6. Classic

1"Sophie, get out." Nate complained. The grifter was lying in his bed.

"Come ravish me, Nate." Sophie offered, wriggling in a way that made Nate want to do just that. The cd player was pm, and _La Vie En Rose_ drifted from the speakers. "This is my favorite song." She admitted, sitting up. "I love it."

"Hm."

"What's your favorite song, Nate?" Sophie asked, looking at him.

Nate had his cd case with him and he flipped through it carefully before placing the cd in the player and selecting a song. It started calmly and Sophie couldn't help but smile.

"Billy Joel's _She's Always a Woman_." She acknowledged.

Nate smiled. "It's classic."

Sophie stood up and slid herself into his arms. "Any reason this is your favorite song, Nate?"

Nate smirked. "No reason."

_She can kill with a smile_

_She can wound with her eyes_

_She can ruin your faith with her casual lies_

_And she only reveals what she wants you to see_

_She hides like a child,_

_But she's always a woman to me_

_She can lead you to love_

_She can take you or leave you_

_She can ask for the truth_

_But she'll never believe you_

_And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free_

_Yeah, she steals like a thief_

_But she's always a woman to me_

_Oh--she takes care of herself_

_She can wait if she wants_

_She's ahead of her time_

_Oh--and she never gives out_

_And she never gives in_

_She just changes her mind_

_And she'll promise you more_

_Than the Garden of Eden_

_Then she'll carelessly cut you_

_And laugh while you're bleedin'_

_But she'll bring out the best_

_And the worst you can be_

_Blame it all on yourself_

_Cause she's always a woman to me_

_Oh--she takes care of herself_

_She can wait if she wants_

_She's ahead of her time_

_Oh--and she never gives out_

_And she never gives in_

_She just changes her mind_

_She is frequently kind_

_And she's suddenly cruel_

_She can do as she pleases_

_She's nobody's fool_

_And she can't be convicted_

_She's earned her degree_

_And the most she will do_

_Is throw shadows at you_

_But she's always a woman to me_


	7. Dally

1"I looked up the word 'dally'. It means 'to act playfully, especially amorously. To linger. To waste time!' _I intend to dally._

-Archie Goodwin, _A Nero Wolfe Mystery_

Nate wasn't given to fits of lust. Nor was he given to ever relaxing the rigid moral code that separated him from people like me. I lived, as a friend of mine would call it, 'on a diet of zero self restraint.' Nate always looked down on me about that. He always thought that he was better than me because he preferred to stick by his morals, and I preferred to stick with instant gratification.

But all that disdain that he held for me from sunrise until sundown... I would take it, because the darkness changed Nate. He was still annoyingly faithful, but those would be the times when the rules didn't matter so much. He stopped being a cop, and I stopped being a robber. Suddenly I was a woman, he was a man, and that was what was important. At times I wished I could take the cop as opposed to the married man, but it was not to be. For Nate and I, it was never to be. But when I'm alone at night, knowing that he's drunk somewhere, wallowing in his misery, I'm reliving Paris or Rome or Athens or Prague or Venice. All those cities. All those nights. I've never been in Nate's arms the way I've always wanted, but I've been in his heart since day one.


	8. Hotel

1He could have killed Hardison. It was an alleged mistake. Nate didn't believe it for a moment. Master computer hackers didn't _make_ mistakes. Especially not mistakes like this. Nate was as far to the side of the bed as he could get, watching Sophie, who had fallen asleep and moved her way to the center of the bed. She was stunning, of course, and everything in Nate's body urged him to move closer and take her in his arms.

This was, of course, why he could do nothing of the sort. If he pursued Sophie, it would be done differently. He wouldn't ambush her with desire in a hotel room at night. He wasn't like that.

She shifted in her sleep, rolling her shoulders smoothly. "Nate...." She murmured his name, soft and loving. "I love you, Nate."

It stunned him that she had even said it. What stunned him more was that she was unlikely to lie to him about it in dreams. She honestly loved him. It was enough that he moved from the edge of the bed to her side. One hand slid along her smooth arm to rest on her back, and she shifted into him, so that she was nestled very softly against him. "I love you, Nate." She repeated.

Nate pressed a feather-light kiss to her lips. "I love you too Sophie."

He needed to remember to thank Hardison.


	9. Lipstick

1He woke up, alone and unsurprised. He got up with a sigh and looked around. The Vermeer was sitting in the corner of the room where he had left it, and his handcuffs were lying over a piece of paper on the table where she had left them. He picked the paper up, reading the note she had left.

Nate,

Sorry I couldn't stay, Love, but jail just isn't an attractive option for me. I'll see you next time. Maybe in Cairo. What do you think? Egyptian artifacts interesting to you? I know they're under your jurisdiction. Wherever I see you next, be prepared for some fun. I'll see you soon.

-Sophie Devereaux

He couldn't help but smile. Her signature was at the bottom of the page, with red lipstick over it. Nate folded the paper up and tucked it into his wallet. It was a promise from Sophie, sealed with a kiss.


	10. Siren

1It was all _right_. The time, the place, the person. I had finally gotten my life back together. The team had conned me into working with them again, and they were gone, but she was still here. Sophie. As always, she was there when everyone else was gone.

Finally, _finally_, it was a good time. I was ready. "Hey, let's go get some dinner." My voice was thick with implications, but Sophie looked uncomfortable.

"Oh...Yeah, I... I can't. I.. I... I've got to go meet someone."

It was a setback, but just a minor one. I could work around it. "Ah. Bring him along."

Now she looked _very_ uncomfortable. She looked down, then gave me an apologetic smile. "Ah.... boyfriend." One word, turning my minor setback to major. One word, that hurt worse than any other she could possibly say to me.

Oh. "Oh." It wasn't fair. Her smile, the hesitation in her voice. All of it made her more endearing, something I hadn't thought was possible. She was a Siren. My own personal demon here to draw me in even as she turned me away. It was unbearable. She went off to meet with her new man and the bar sucked me in in her wake. "Irish. Neat."

The shot glass was set in front of me and I picked it up, yelling at myself. I was done with this. I had quit drinking. Hadn't touched the bottle in months. The scent of liquor drifted across my nose, sharp and tempting as a promise. A promise to dull my senses, cloud my mind, a cushion against the pain, sharp as knives. I put the glass down, leaving it full with a bill lying on top of it. I turned and went into my condo with a sigh. It was all _right_. The time, the place, the person.

Too bad I wasn't the person for her anymore.

Somewhere in the night, in the arms of another man, my siren called to me.


	11. Uncertainty

1Every day, I'm fighting with myself. She's beautiful, clever, funny, and caring. But she's a thief. She's my old enemy, and I don't think that I'm ready for that world again. I don't know what to do about it anymore. She's got me wrapped around her little finger. We're just not together. I know that drives her insane, but I can't help it. I don't want her to get hurt, so I hold off.

But sometimes, when I'm watching her get ready for a con, or she and I are talking, and it's like the old days... sometimes I wonder if making a move would be such a bad thing. I've always wanted to be with Sophie, but it hasn't been a real option until now. Suddenly, I find myself wondering if maybe it's time to start something.

But then I think about myself, if I'm ready. I don't know if I am, and if I'm not, _she'll_ get hurt in the end. I don't want that. I don't ever want to hurt Sophie. That's never been my intent, and it will never make me happy to do that to her.

Which brings me back to the beginning. _Can I make Sophie happy_? The problem is that I don't have the answer to that question. I don't like being unsure, but I'm always unsure when it comes to Sophie. That drives me insane more than anything.

So it goes. I talk myself in circles day after day, and it never helps. I won't make a move until I know that Sophie can be happy with me, but I won't know that unless I make a move. I'm stuck with a conundrm and no apparent way to solve it.


	12. Vis a vis

1_Heaven. I'm in Heaven_

_And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak_

_But I seem to find the happiness I seek_

_When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek._

Sophie laughed as Nate spun her in a circle, then dipped her. He really was a divine dancer, even though he never showed it. She loved occasions like this. When he _would_ take her out dancing, and they would stay out until all hours of the morning. It was when she was closest to having him. When Maggie was a dream, and she and Nate were real. He was still annoyingly faithful, but somehow, wrapped in his arms, Sophie didn't care.

His hand rested on her waist, seeping through the thin material of her flowing red dress. His other hand held hers, and the arm she had around his neck toyed with the curls that hung down there. She loved it. Loved having him that close, seeing that look in his blue eyes that told her that he was feeling everything she was.

_Dance with me. _

_I want my arms about you. _

_The charms about you will carry me through_

_To Heaven..._

"You're so beautiful." Nate murmured as the song drifted to a close.

Sophie smiled and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you Nate, for a lovely evening."

"You're not getting away that easily, Sophie." Nate smirked.

"But I have to, Nate. As they say in Paris, Je vous verrai de nouveau bientôt. Quand ensuite nous nous rencontrons vis-a-vis." (I'll see you soon. When next we meet face to face.) Sophie winked. "Or cheek to cheek."


	13. Weak

1"Ah.... boyfriend..."

Nate was weak. He acted otherwise, but he knew the truth of the fact. He was weak. He had always been weak. He needed alcohol to numb the pain. He needed it to function properly after losing so much. He ordered an Irish and lifted the drink to his lips, but paused there. She had waited for him, for _ten years_, and she had never needed to get herself trashed the way he did. If she could bear the pain of wanting him so badly, of loving him with everything she had, and not drink the way he used to.... why couldn't he? He replaced the drink, still full.

Nate was weak, but Sophie made him strong.


	14. Just

1_Just_. They had always abused that word.

"I'm not a criminal. I _just_ like having nice things I couldn't afford otherwise."

"I'm not unfaithful. I _just_ find you ridiculously attractive."

"I have morals. I _just_ don't use them."

"I'm not an alcoholic. I _just_ like to drink."

Or, his personal favorite.

He wasn't overprotective. He was just in love.


	15. Trace

Something so simple makes me arch my back under capable hands. Such a ridiculously small movement, and I'm moaning against soft lips. If anyone knows how to play me like a piano, it would be the man in my arms.

His fingers trace small designs over my heart and down my stomach, and I love it.

"Sophie." My name burns like fire, and all I can do is pull him in for a desperate kiss, wanting to feel him repeat it. He does, and I moan.

"Nate… my Nate."

And he is mine, and he's crazy if he thinks that I'll let him go.


	16. Dark

Dark. Sophie lived for it, and with the lights out, she was always near him. The power outage had been so sudden, and Nate hadn't known to expect it. It was strange, nerve-wracking. She was so close… _so close_. The urge to pull her to him was almost irresistible. Nate crushed his arms across his chest, shaking with the effort of _not touching_.

They flickered back on, and she glanced over at the man who was studiously voiding her gaze, his arms locked over his chest. She smirked and sauntered over to seat herself in his lap. He glared at her. "You're horrible."

She smiled proudly. "Oh, I know."


	17. Truth

They were liars, all of them. Even _him_. Certainly he hadn't always made a living off of it, the way she did, but it was true that they were all liars.

Because of that, it surprised him when, for once, he didn't lie.

"So you would have made the same play if it were me?"

"Yeah, probably." He looked at her. "No."

It seemed that he had never been able to effectively lie to her, and he suspected that no matter what, that wouldn't change.


	18. Powerless

Everything about her was alluring, attractive, from the way her ankles moved smoothly in front of each other to the way her waist was so thin and shapely to the way her accent was smooth and flawless, no matter what it _was_.

What _really_ captivated him was her cinnamon eyes, and the way they smouldered when they met his. The way she could force him to do anything she wanted with a calm, level stare.

They way they narrowed when she was angry was more than enough to freeze him in his tracks, and the way they were wide and sad when she gave him _that look_ accompanied with a soft 'please' that made it impossible for him to say no.

What really got him, though, was when she looked up at him, with her eyes darkened and mischievous, and they raked down his chest.

Everything about her was attractive, but it was her eyes that made the control freak completely powerless.


	19. Picture

It was small, tucked away in his wallet, and half of it had been missing for as long as he could remember. Her eyes shone, and her red dress was tight fitted and flowing and would make a stronger man than Nathan Ford weak at the knees. He could remember every detail of that night, down to the words that had been said, and the electrifying kiss they had shared.

He never knew where the second half of that picture was. She did.


	20. Because

_Because_. It's her reason for everything. Nothing more, nothing less. Just _because_.

"Why did you steal the painting?"

"Because."

"Why didn't you meet me?"

"Because."

"Why have you been gone so long?"

"Because."

Then one day, the job goes wrong, and he tells her to leave, and she doesn't. Then he's bleeding and she's crying. "Why didn't you leave when I told you to?"

And she gives him more. "Because I love you."


	21. Dance

With them, a dance had never been _just_ a dance. It was a challenge, a battle for control between a cop and a thief. Both of them liked control, both of them wanted it, and whoever controlled the dance _usually_ walked away with the stolen art. But there were times, when the song was slow and soft, when they didn't battle, when she would let him pull her close and lead the way, and she would just get lost in his arms.

A dance was a battle for control, but love? That was one of the few things that was mutual.


	22. Fire

She reminded him of fire. That was the first thought about her he ever had. She had been wearing a slinky red dress with gold beads sewn in that shimmered and flashed whenever she moved, like flame that hadn't yet left the embers of a dying fire.

Then he got to know her, and the analogy kept fitting. She could be there, and then gone, like someone blowing out a lit match, leaving behind the lingering scent of smoke (or in her case, perfume). She could be calm one minute, and furious the next, like flames leaping up from the ashes.

The way her eyes smoldered when he looked at her, the way her gaze made him too warm.

She was like fire, but what a lovely way to burn.


	23. Found

The streets were dark, but he didn't need the light to see. He chased after the lingering scent of perfume, a flash of red in the darkness.

Finally, she's trapped in an alley, and he's standing in the entrance, smirking. "I found you."

The pale line of his left hand is fading, and she's in his arms, kissing him softly.

"It's so nice to be found."


	24. Open

I've always been able to read people. They're easy to read, when you know how to do it. He knows that, and so he guards the way he acts around me and still wonders why I know what he's thinking.

It's his eyes: cerulean and expressive. He's a good liar, but when I'm looking into his eyes, I always know the truth. They're bright, sometimes hopeful, and when he gazes at me with that hopeless look, he reminds me of a child. Someone to be loved and protected, someone who is still innocent of the monsters in the world, even as they work around him. They're open and honest, loving and gentle.

As long as his eyes are on mine, I'll always be able to read him.


	25. Polar

He loves summer, she prefers winter. She likes rainy days, he likes sunshine. She's a criminal, he's an honest man. They've always been polar opposites, different in every way. It's the reason they argue so much, the reason they get along so well. It's hard for people who are _so different_ to get along, and they know it. The reason they do get along, and the reason they love each other is a simple fact of life.

Opposites attract.


	26. Predator

It's the way he looks at a mark when they're not looking that gets me. The way his eyes narrow and the expressive cerulean blue turns into a sheet of ice, cold and unforgiving. I remember being on the receiving side of that cold stare, and I remember how I reacted oddly. It sent shivers down my spine, the way he looked at me. He was the hunter, I was the hunted: He, the predator, I, the prey. I got chills, knowing he was chasing me, his nose to the trail, his ears open, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

It was the way he was so calm and sure of himself, the way his hand holds a gun, like it's an old friend, and he _knows_ how to use it. When he's running a con, I don't see the man, broken by death and tragedy. I see the man who chased me across Europe, a man I've missed dearly.

That's why I joined his team. For brief moments, that man is back again.


	27. Still

It was cheap. A piece of five dollar costume jewelry with silver-painted iron and an obviously fake sapphire. He had one it at some carnival in Paris and had given it to her, because what use did a man have for a ring? That had been in 2003, and he expected it to be chipping away in some garbage heap by now.

But one day, Sophie grabbed his hand, a plastic sapphire glinting on her finger and he stared at it. "Still?"

"Always."


	28. Trying

She was the best at what she did. She could lie and make _anyone_ believe her, with one exception.

She made a dozen attempts to lie to him successfully, to con him, and it never worked, even once.

Over and over, he told her that she couldn't con him. Over and over, she tried. Over and over, she failed.

No, she couldn't con him.

That didn't stop her from trying.


	29. Yesterday

Times change, people change, and when they do, things can never go back. She's gone, and even though he knows she's coming back, it makes him uncomfortable. Yesterday, they were standing by a grave marked with her name. Yesterday, they were a breath away from a kiss.

Yesterday seems so long ago.


	30. Close

Nate was a control freak, but so was she.

And yes, most of the time, when she managed to take control, it meant that Nate was swearing angrily with his wrists lashed to the headboard. She didn't mind. She knew that soon he would be swearing for a different reason.

It was her favorite, those rare nights when she wrested control from Nate and showed him how cruel she could be.

Her favorite trick was to hold him on edge, holding him still until he was practically thrashing and hissed words escaped his gritted teeth. "_Jesus_, Sophie. I'm so close. _Please_."

She liked him close.


	31. Everything

She had a bad habit of leaving him notes. Not hints, which would be _useful_. They couldn't even be considered love letters. He found the first one in his jacket pocket at his hotel room in Florence. He knew he should have stopped reading after the opening, but he didn't.

He read the entire note, which told him _everything_ she wanted to do to him, given the chance. She was creative, he'd give her that.

She was stunned when she found it. The ming vase was gone, and in its place was a little piece of paper. On it, he had written everything he wanted to do to her.

Sex in the Eiffel Tower wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had.


	32. Learn

She could never decide if she liked children or hated them. She never knew, until she met _his_.

The little boy ran straight into her, and Nathan was kneeling at the four year old's side. "We say _excuse me_, Sammy." He murmured, using what she would later learn was his 'fatherly' voice. Sam and his father turned two identical pairs of cerulean eyes on her, and it took her breath away.

"Escooze me." Sam said proudly. Tears formed in her eyes as she knelt in front of the little boy.

"You can run into me _any _time, Sammy." She promised. Maybe she would never want a child of her own, but she learned that day that she loved kids.


	33. Strong

He stood and looked threatening, his gun poking out from beneath his jacket, standing at her shoulder. "Ignore him. He's not important." I reply.

He doesn't often help me out on cons, but when he does, he always tells me to just let him stand in the background. He's as good an actor as I am... probably _better_, but he never does. He pretends that it's because he doesn't want to get too involved. I know him better than that. It's because he knows how much I love the spotlight. He shows up to every one of my shows, always tells me that I was amazing, even when I bomb the reviews. He just smiles and tells me that the critics don't know what they're talking about. Promises me that he's never seen someone who can act like I can.

When we get out, (successfully, I might add) I turn on him. "How's Sam?"

He smiles, and it takes my breath away. "Sam's doing much better. We have high hopes."

I nod and murmur that the news is wonderful, even as my heart breaks. I had hoped that Nate would tell me the truth that I already knew. Sam has progressed to stage five, IYS has denied the claim that might have saved him. Nate is going to watch his son die, and we both know it. I wish he could let me in, just a little, into his life. That, maybe, he could trust me enough to help him.

Here he is, smiling even when I can't imagine the pain he must be going through, all the time. The way it must _hurt_ to see his little boy in such pain. Sam, who Nate loves more than anyone or any_thing_ else in this world, dying like this. And still, Nate smiles. He's too strong

His strength will break him one day, and I don't know if he'll let me in to pick up the pieces.


	34. Goodbye

She pondered over it for hours and hours, usually so good at reading people, but this time, she wasn't sure what it was. Something was wrong. Off, but she didn't know what it was. Half of it was that she had been so dizzy, so thrown by his kiss. What he had told them rang through her head, repeated over and over and over again in her mind, like a song that she just couldn't get rid of…. _Honorable people…. My only family… won't forget…_

She didn't know what it was. For the longest time, she wondered what it was about this kiss. Of course it had all the fire and electricity of twelve years of nothing but attraction, but there was something more than that. She thought of what he told her, about the most recent time he had kissed or been kissed. Maggie, in the elevator with the bomb, and she kissed him, hard and wanting, and she knew.

After that day, their kiss brought tears to her eyes, because she recognized it for what it was. The kiss had been goodbye, and all she wanted to do was hold on tighter and beg him not to leave. A tear rolled down her cheek. _Don't say goodbye._


	35. Lonely

The team was all around. Eliot and Hardison were bickering as usual, and Parker sat on the edge of the couch, topping off her third bowl of cereal that morning.

He cared about them. Maybe even loved them like hi own family. Tara had slowly taken the place of the eccentric aunt and he might even love her too ((but only just a very little.)

What he didn't understand was, around so many people that he loved, how could he be so ridiculously lonely?


	36. Wolf

She had always been a cat person, and she asked him once, if he could have any pet in the world, what would it be? His answer had surprised her.

A wolf.

Not a dog. A _wolf_.

She had laughed at him back then, called him ridiculous to want a wild animal for a pet. It wasn't until years later, when she was out with a mark, a zoo owner she was stealing from. They had walked around it, and she had stopped outside of the wolf display, looking in.

There were five of them, all curled up together, and she never forgot the mark's words as he told her about them. _Pack animals... fiercely protective of those they love..._

It wasn't until then that she understood why Nate loved wolves: He was just like them.


	37. Stars

"Polaris." He had known this was a bad idea when she proposed it, but here he was, lying beside her on a blanket on a beach in Greece, telling her about the stars.

"I recognize the North Star, Nate." She teased. "What's that one?" She pointed to a yellow-ish star that was larger than all the rest.

Nate frowned, tipping his head to the side. "Venus is out tonight."

"That's Venus?"

Nate smiled as she curled closer. "Yes... My Aphrodite."

She giggled and rested her head on his chest. "They're supposed to make you feel insignificant. That's what I hear. They just make me feel... alive."

"Everything makes you feel alive."

She chuckled. "It does when I'm with you."


	38. Spirit

There had always been something about her. As long as he'd known her, she had always caught his eye. It wasn't for a long time that he really understood. The same hands that slid up his chest every time she got the chance held onto his tightly when he was so overcome that it didn't seem like he could keep going. The same eyes that lit up with wicked ideas that he rarely liked became soft and filled with pain for _him_ when he needed her.

She was free, and she was his only escape from the misery and pain of his life as his son died. It wasn't Maggie, it wasn't him, and it _certainly_ wasn't his job that kept him going. It was her, her spirit, her charm, her easy grace.

Sophie was the closest thing to redemption he had.


	39. Moment

An instant. A moment of utter confusion, and utter bliss. He was right there in front of her. Too close, _too close_.

She could see that fire in his eyes. The one that she thought had burned out years ago. But here it was, making her burn the way it always had. She didn't move, didn't speak. She was too afraid that it would break the spell, ruin this delicious, very stolen moment.

It couldn't have lasted more than a few heartbeats, but those icy, fiery blue eyes seemed to capture time itself and hold it the same way that they held her.

But then the mark spoke and it was over, the never-ending instant gone, lost.

She pretended that it had never happened, and so did he.

But every now and then, he caught her daydreaming, misty-eyed and motionless, and he would know what she was thinking about.

And he would smile.

_Let the moment go. Don't forget it for a moment though._


	40. Line

He was young when I first saw him, then later, when (he insists) I first met him. Fresh faced and far too good for this job that would eventually destroy him and turn him into a bitter man. I've seen it happen hundreds of times, and it saddened me to think of his pretty (and I have to face it, Nate was _pretty_ in his thirties.) face, lined and creased over the years.

And now, we work together every day, and he's older, and he has frown lines, and these little crow's feet at the corners of his eyes that I see during one of those rare smiles. And his forehead is creased from the amount of times that he's furrowed his brow while he thought, holding his fist to his mouth in that way he has.

And I think that he's not pretty anymore. He's handsome, in that roguish way that makes him look distinguished. And right now, he's staring into a cup of (probably) spiked coffee, talking quietly, and his forehead creases as his eyes lift to mine, though he still faces that coffee cup.

And I think that he's more handsome than he was even back then.


End file.
